


The Dreamer

by puncromancy (AptGoodTouch)



Category: Original Work
Genre: Other, violence typical of humans attempting to hunt supernatural things
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-02
Updated: 2018-10-02
Packaged: 2019-07-24 08:42:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16171589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AptGoodTouch/pseuds/puncromancy
Summary: Hunters expect to die young.It comes with the territory; you’re only human, and your quarry 1) isn’t (anymore) or 2) never was to begin with, and either one is usually faster, stronger and more magical than you could ever hope to be.[edited 10/8]





	The Dreamer

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cytokiine](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cytokiine/gifts).



 

Hunters expect to die young.

It comes with the territory; you’re only human, and your quarry 1) isn’t (anymore) or 2) never was to begin with, and either one is usually faster, stronger and more magical than you could ever hope to be.

Unless you’ve dabbled yourself, which isn’t uncommon. You just don’t talk about it.

But even then, hitting 30 is an accomplishment. One Sahir Amari had hoped to reach. Her dark skin might be crisscrossed with scars, but her bounties were enough to keep gas in the camper and food in the fridge and even, sometimes, make life kind of comfortable. She considered herself to have an excellent eye for bullshit, and her aim wasn’t half bad either.

Right now though, it looked like 25 was as far as she was gonna make it.

~*~

The humid night air stuck to her skin, crickets and fireflies thick in the grass as she ran. Furious baying howls erupted in the marshy forest behind her and she swore, gritting her teeth, fighting the mud with each step as she tore her way back towards town. She wasn’t going to make it. This was the pack’s territory, and she’d only been here a week tops. All she knew was if she followed the river back towards the halo of light that was _probably_ the Riverside casino, she might be ok. But it was awfully far, and her legs already felt heavy.

She slowed, breathing hard. It was incredibly dark; she doubted if even the werewolves could see very well in this light, with the moon covered in a thick blanket of clouds. To her right burbled the river, slow and muddy, the frogs quieting as she squished past them, squinting.

_Might be worth trying the river. If they’re only on this bank, they could lose the trail…_

She crouched for a moment by a scrubby bush, thinking. Looking out at what little she could see of the smooth black surface.

_… No telling what lives in there though._

The Deep South didn’t seem like prime kelpie habitat, but kelpies were far from the only nasty thing that could lurk in a nice quiet river. Inhaling quietly, she peered up over the bush. The field was eerily quiet, which was the opposite of comforting. It meant the wolves were prowling, and the wildlife knew it. She closed her eyes, gripping her knife’s hilt tightly. It couldn’t hurt to try. The engraved runes on the cool stone inlaid there were some of the first any hunter learned, and she called upon them.

_Skadi, Goddess of the Hunt, show me the safest path._

Sahir held her breath.

Nothing. Then, a soft tingle of cold bit across her palm and her eyes jolted open. A cloud had shifted. Moonlight lit the marshy field in silver light. Her heart thudded in her chest.

There, on the riverbank. A half-rusted shack, not far ahead. Moonlight lit silver on its holey, corrugated steel roof.

Murmured disbelieving thanks on her lips, she darted forward, silent as she could. The reeds rustled around her, the shack growing closer. She could see its rotten door, barely on its hinges. It took all she had not to break into a run. She topped one small rise, her hands damp with mud and moss, and her hands suddenly scrabbled at nothing as she tipped forward with a massive splash.

Sound roared back to the field.

Howls and snarls all around her, thick with bloodlust as she fled, flinging herself into the shack. She jammed an old shovel across the door, barring it closed and backed herself against the most solid wall, forcing her breathing down. The old steel roof was so rusted out she could tell the exact moment the moon sank back behind the clouds. They were close now. Close enough their growls were clear over the frogs singing on the opposite bank.

She swore silently down at the knife, its faerite glistening unrepentently.

_Safe my ASS._  
  
She was gonna die as werewolf chow. She couldn’t believe it. A week ago, she’d gone into this thinking it’d be a quick job. She’d found the werewolf in a day. He’d not even been bothering to hide his eyes, his fangs, his claws. She’d thought he’d been packless, young; she’d watched him for days to make sure, and everything she’d seen had reassured her she was right. No self-respecting pack would have ever let a new wolf act like that.

She hadn’t even intended to hurt him when she’d confronted him tonight. She could get him in touch with a pack, a good one. It wasn’t a common path for a hunter to take, but she couldn’t bring herself to kill a young wolf without guidance.

It just turned out the pack wasn’t self-respecting. They didn’t care if hunters found them; they _wanted_ hunters to find them. It had been _glee_ on his face when his pack, ragged and dirty, lurched out of the bushes, bloodlust in their eyes.

Questions whirled in her head, but there was no time to figure it out. Whatever they wanted hunters for, she’d fallen into their trap, and it was closing fast. She could hear their growls more clearly, hear them talking in their bestial language. Hear the squish of mud under their paws. The breeze brought their stinking scent into the shack. She tensed, knives in hand.

Their silver would kill at least two of the fuckers, if she could hit them. They wouldn’t get her alive, not if she could help it.

Not even a cricket chirped outside, the night suddenly horribly still.

The door exploded. She barely took in the beast’s rotten breath before it collided with her, the wall behind her collapsing in a rain of splinters and rust, the air knocked out of her, its claws in her gut for one frozen second, her own blood hot and wet, its blood even hotter on her fingers, knife so deep in its side she felt its greasy fur on her knuckles—

They didn’t even tumble. The pair launched straight over the banks and hit the muddy water, the wolf screaming in rage and pain as silver burned into its flesh, Sahir readying her second knife, eyes squeezed shut. Water burned in her nose as her shoulder hit the river’s bottom and the werewolf’s claws left her stomach. It was flailing in the water. A muffled snap sounded close enough she could feel the heated water on her face. Claws caught and tore at her arm before it grabbed her, wrenching her closer despite her blind knife slashes.

Cold water broke her concentration. It felt like ice on her spine as something moved behind her. As the werewolf dragged her up, the river bed rose with her and her stomach dropped as dread hit her like a brick wall. Her hunter senses screamed: _old, magical, and HUNGRY_.

Its magic roiled in the water as something enormous caught her side—bigger than the werewolf’s paw and far more solid—and sent her tumbling downstream, what little air that remained knocked out of her chest. The wolf was screaming. The pack yelped and snarled on the banks. Sahir hit the surface, gasping. Muddy water roiled before her, a spreading dark cloud growing amid the foam. She pawed one-handed at the water, straining to see what it was.

She was right: this wasn’t kelpie habitat. Whatever it was was much, much bigger. She could see the werewolf’s black fur, its fangs as it bayed in rage, eyes so wide the whites shone in the darkness. And then something monstrous rose from the water, dozens of fangs flashing in the night. She registered a sickening crunch amidst the splash, and felt the water moving fast around her too late to react.

Something as thick as her body burst from the muddy water, slamming into her with the force of a truck.

There wasn’t even a moment of flashing purple. No white lights dancing in front of her eyes. It all went black. 

**Author's Note:**

> hallo hallo welcome to the end 
> 
> I hope you've enjoyed this bit! Before I get too far though, the lovely characters in this story belong to both me and my dear Cytokiine. This particular bit of writing is an AU I'm playing with, attempting to write a coherent story for once. Key word there being 'attempt'. 
> 
> If you've got questions, or want to see more, let me know! You can hit me up here or on tumblr (same as the pseud)! I'm just bumbling my way along but I do hope you enjoyed reading this bit ;u; 
> 
> Thank you again! I love these characters with all my heart and I'm excited to show off a bit more of this story!


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